CHAPTER XIII.
BRIGHTENING PROSPECTS.
This was altogether a new experience to Willie, and a very trying one. But he bore it bravely; kept all his worst struggles from his anxious mother and desponding grandfather, and resolved to hope against hope. Gerty was now his chief comforter. He told her all his troubles, and, young as she was, she was a wonderful consoler. Always looking on the bright side, she did much towards keeping up his hopes and strengthening his resolutions. She knew more than most children of the various ways, in which she sometimes made valuable suggestions to Willie, of which he gladly availed himself. Among others, she one day asked him if he had applied at the agency offices. He had never thought of it—wondered he had not, but would try. He did so, and for a time was buoyed up with hopes held out to him; but they proved fleeting, and he was now almost in despair, when his eye fell upon an advertisement in a newspaper, which seemed to afford another chance. He showed it to Gerty. It was just the thing.
Gerty was so sanguine, that Willie presented himself the next day at the place specified with a more eager countenance than he had ever yet worn. The gentleman talked with him some time; asked a great many questions, hinted his doubts about his capability, and finally declared he was not eligible. He returned with such a heavy heart that he could not meet his mother, and so he went to True's room. It was the night before Christmas. True had gone out, and Gerty was alone. She was preparing a cake for tea—one of the few branches of the cooking department in which she had acquired some skill. She was just coming from the pantry, with a scoop-full of meal in her hand, when Willie entered. He tossed his cap upon the settle, and leaned his head upon his hands, and this betrayed the defeat the poor boy had met with. It was so unlike Willie to come in without speaking—it was such a strange thing to see his bright young head bowed down with care, and his elastic figure looking tired and old, that Gerty knew at once his brave heart had given way. She laid down the scoop, and walking up to him, touched his arm with her hand, and looked up anxiously into his face. Her sympathetic look was more than he could bear. He laid his head on the table, and in a minute more Gerty heard great heavy sobs, each one of which sank deep into her soul. She often cried herself—it seemed only natural; but Willie—the laughing, happy, light-hearted Willie—she had never seen him cry; she didn't know he could. She crept up on the rounds of his chair, and putting her arm round his neck, whispered, "I shouldn't mind, Willie, if I didn't get the place; I don't believe it's a good place."
"I don't believe it is, either," said Willie, lifting up his head; "but what shall I do? I can't get any place, and I can't stay here doing nothing."
"We like to have you at home," said Gerty.
"It's pleasant enough to be at home. I was always glad enough to come when I lived at Mr. Bray's and was earning something, and could feel as if anybody was glad to see me."
"Everybody is glad to see you now."
"But not as they were then," said Willie; "mother always looks as if she expected to hear I'd got something to do; and grandfather, I believe, never thought I should be good for much; and now, as I was beginning to earn something, and be a help to them, I've lost my chance!"